The Rescue (2 page)

Collingbourne, England
May 1811

“How are you?” Anne Gardiner asked as she slipped into the small cottage and embraced her friend, Lucy Digby.

“I’m very well, and even in my condition,” Lucy rebuked her gently, “I can tell I’m getting more rest than you are.”

Anne smiled tiredly at her very expectant friend and took a seat on the small sofa when Lucy urged her that way.

“Father isn’t always this bad, Lucy,” Anne explained when both women were seated. “But lately he’s been very restless.”

“And that means what for you exactly?”

Anne thought about the question for a moment.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean more work in a physical sense, but he’s on my mind more, and of course that can be very tiring.”

“I saw him not too long ago and thought he looked very well.”

“Yes, he does. He enjoys rather good health for all his absentminded ways.”

“So he eats regularly?”

Anne chuckled a little before saying, “Not always at home, but I can tell that he never goes without.”

Lucy could not say the same of her friend. Anne didn’t look unwell or ill-fed; indeed, her color was very good, but Lucy couldn’t help but wonder when Anne had last enjoyed a new dress, or even a pair of gloves or hat. Lucy’s own husband was not a wealthy man, but one look at her friend told Lucy she had so much more.

The women visited until Lucy’s two-year-old, Meg, woke from her nap. After spending a little time with the toddler, Anne went on her way. She wasn’t in a hurry to leave, but hers was a long walk home.

Levens Crossing

“Did you eat something, Father?” Anne Gardiner asked of her only parent, her eyes watchful of his face. The plate of food before him looked untouched. She had not made a large meal—it was just the two of them—but what little he’d served himself seemed forgotten.

Colonel Gardiner did not answer. He gazed across the room, his bushy brows making him look rather fierce. He wasn’t. He was naturally kind at heart, but since his illness he’d become rather unpredictable.

“Father?” Anne tried again. This time he turned.

“Yes.”

“How is your breakfast?”

“Very good,” he said, sounding confident and reaching for his fork. “I need a good meal before I go on maneuvers this afternoon.”

Anne knew that he would be doing no such thing, but she took it in stride. For years now she’d been accustomed to the unexpected in her life, so Anne only smiled a little and turned from his side. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I need to fix that leak in the roof.”

No answer was forthcoming, but then Anne had not expected any. Her mind on the task that awaited her, she slipped out the back door of the small home they occupied and took hold of the short ladder that stood nearby.

Water was leaking into the dining room. It had rained nearly all night, and in the morning the floor had been wet. The house was in need of great repair as it was—a soaked floor and ceiling would not help anything. Anne thought she might have spotted the problem, and with a prayer for personal safety, she set the wobbly ladder as best she could and began to climb.

Thankfully the roof was lower to the ground on this corner of the house. By standing on the very top rung of the ladder, some five feet in the air, Anne could reach the thatched roof with a stretch of her toes.

She was intent on her job when a small carriage approached. It was an open carriage, pulled by one horse, and carrying just one man: Robert Weston. Approaching the door of the cottage, Weston rapped several times but received no answer.

He wasn’t lost, although this was his first trip to Collingbourne since he was a lad. He had stopped because he hadn’t remembered the existence of this cottage. It sat some five miles from Brown Manor to the north—only two miles from town to the south—and Weston was frankly inquisitive about the owners.

He was eager to see Brown Manor, but curiosity drove him to stop. A noise at the side of the house sent him in that direction. He rounded the corner to find Anne on the ladder.

Unfortunately, Anne did not hear him.

“I say,” he began, “would you be so kind—”

“Oh!” Anne started violently before he could complete his sentence, teetered a few seconds, and then completely lost her balance. One moment she was on the ladder, and the next moment she was in the arms of a strange man, her eyes looking up into eyes as large and surprised as her own.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Weston began as he gingerly set her down, his hands making sure she was steady on her feet.

“Thank you for catching me. I simply didn’t hear you.”

“Anne?” a voice called from behind the couple. Anne turned to her father with a sinking heart.

“We have a guest, Father.”

“Is this your intended, Anne?” the Colonel inquired.

“No, no, certainly not, Father. I’m sure I can explain.”

“What are your intentions, young man?” the Colonel came forward, and for the first time Weston noticed not only his uniform but the large sword at his side. Up to that point he’d been ready to make light of the situation, but as the older man drew near, he read something in his eyes that sent frissons of fear down his back.

“Father,” Anne tried again.

“It’s all right, dear,” he assured her in a tone she knew all too well. “I can handle this. Now, sir, you will tell me your name and how you plan to support my daughter.”

Looking as thunderstruck as he felt, Weston made the mistake of hesitating. A moment later, the Colonel reached for his sword.

“Did I not make myself clear?” he demanded, the sword now pointed at Weston’s broad chest. “I wish to know your intentions with my Anne.”

Completely without fear for herself, Anne placed herself between Weston and sword, her voice and face calm, but every inch of her trembling.

“Father,” she said sweetly, true to her very real nature, “I do not wish you to harm this man.”

The Colonel calmed some. He lowered his sword point toward the ground and relaxed back on one heel.

“Of course you don’t. You love him. And in light of that, I think the wedding should take place immediately.”

“If you would let me explain,” Weston spoke up, certain the man would see reason. “I’m just moving into the area. I’m sorry to have disturbed you this way.”

“No disturbance at all,” the Colonel said expansively. “Anne’s intended is always welcome in my home.”

“No, sir, I’m sorry you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Your daughter and I are not getting married.”

The sword came back up with alarming speed.

Anne turned her back on her father and faced Weston.

“Please,” Anne begged quietly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please go along with anything I do. If you don’t go along with this, he will harm you, I promise.”

“Go along with what exactly?” Weston asked, his low voice matching hers.

“You’ll have to marry me.”

Weston looked at her in such horror that Anne’s face flooded with heat. But this was no time to think of herself. Humiliated as she was, Weston was in real danger, and she was determined not to have him harmed. She turned back to her father and spoke firmly, hoping it would work.

“There is no reason to rush, Father. We have plenty of time. Did you finish your meal?”

“He had his hands on you, Anne. I won’t have you treated with such disregard.”

Anne knew there was no reason to continue. If he could have been distracted, it would have happened by now.

“Come along!” the Colonel demanded. “We’ll take this carriage and go right to Croft’s office. What time is it?” the Colonel, stopping, now asked his only child.

“Near noon,” Anne said.

“Croft will be at home. We’ll head directly there.”

The Colonel strode toward the carriage but then stopped. He caught Weston’s gaze with his own and motioned him forward, using the sword. He waited until both Anne and Weston started toward him before turning and climbing into the back. Weston, still in shock and walking slowly, looked to Anne.

“Is this some type of gag?”

“No, and I’m so sorry. I’ll explain things as soon as I’m able.”

“I would like an explanation now,” Weston told her, his voice tight.

“Well, the last time—” Anne began.

“The last time?” Weston said, nearly losing his composure altogether. “What is the matter with you people?”

“Anne!” her father’s voice boomed from the carriage.

Anne picked up the pace even as she attempted to draw a calming breath.

“I’m really most dreadfully sorry—I can’t tell you how much—but if you don’t wish to be harmed, you’ll have to wait for your explanation.”

Not waiting for a reply, Anne covered the distance to the carriage. A weaker woman would have been crying by now, but Anne had learned long ago that tears were very little help.

Weston followed a little more slowly but then sped up when he saw Anne trying to climb into the carriage unassisted. Her father, who was seated in the rear, made no move to help her. Anne turned to look at the man who had given her a gentle hand up, wondering for the first time who he was.

Weston climbed into the carriage but decided to try one last plea. When he turned and found the sword, three feet of polished, gleaming steel, laid across the Colonel’s lap, he changed his mind and resigned himself to the nightmare.

“Where to?”

“Anne will show you.”

The carriage jerked into motion, and with two quietly spoken directions from Anne, it stopped before a lovely home just a mile and a half away. The Colonel jumped down and strode to the door.

“Croft! Are you at home? Anne is to be wed!”

The door opened just before he could pound, and the Colonel strode in, clearly a man with a purpose.

Anne was climbing from the carriage when she felt Weston’s hands assisting her. Once on the ground, she stood and looked up at him.

“Did you say you’re now living in Collingbourne?”

“Yes.”

Anne nodded with regret.

“If you were just passing through the area, you could probably leave now and this would all be over, but Father remembers things at the oddest times, and if you’re making your home here, I’m afraid you’re rather stuck.”

Weston tried to tell himself that this was not Anne’s fault. Clearly she was as helpless as he, but suddenly he was angry with her. He didn’t care if the man tracked him or not. How could this woman stand there and expect him to go through with this?

Whether or not Weston would have made a run for it, Anne was not to know. Her father burst from Mr Croft’s home just a moment later, sword on the attack, looking for the man who must marry his daughter.

“What’s keeping you?”

Anne went forward into the house, not looking back but sensing that the man was wise enough to know he’d been beaten.

“Hello, Anne,” Mrs Croft greeted as she stood waiting, her face filled with compassion. She was a woman Anne had grown up knowing, one who had been kind and known her mother.

“Hello, Mrs Croft. There was no persuading him, and I don’t wish this man to be harmed.”

“Of course not. Mr Croft is all set.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Mr Croft, Collingbourne’s oldest and most respected justice of the peace, greeted the man who had just entered his parlor. “I’m Mr Croft, and you are?”

“Robert Weston.”

“Welcome, Mr Weston. If you’ll stand right here…that’s it. Anne, come stand beside him. Good, good.” Having given these directions, he turned to the father of the bride. “Now I think, Colonel, that you can put that sword away,” Croft said calmly, even as he remembered the last time and the horrible loss of blood. “This is a happy occasion; no need for force.”

“Very well, but he was holding Anne very close, and I wish for the ceremony to commence.”

“And it shall.”

What happened in the next few moments was so stunning and confusing to Weston that he could barely think. He’d read of men who were shanghaied into the Royal Navy, and he thought about how it would feel to wake up and find yourself at sea. At the moment he thought he might be able to relate most keenly.

“Now then,” Mr Croft suddenly said, the ceremony over. “You may turn and face the Colonel and my wife. Allow me to present Mr and Mrs Weston. We won’t keep you. Feel free to be off at any time.”

The Colonel came forward to shake Weston’s hand and kiss his daughter. As he was giving Anne a hug, the justice pulled Weston to the side.

“Anne will explain everything to you. Just leave now and listen to her.”

All Weston heard was the part about leaving. He found Anne at his side and turned for the door. His action automatic, he took Anne’s arm, walked to the carriage, and helped her in. Once the reins were in his hands, he set off toward Brown Manor.

“Again, I’m so sorry,” Anne said quietly. “Maybe you’d rather not hear the explanation just now.”

When he said nothing, Anne fell quiet for a moment. A few glances at his stern profile kept her silent until she noticed that he was headed away from town, the horse moving at a brisk pace.

“If you’ll just drop me here, Mr Weston, I can find my way back.”

In all honesty Weston did not hear her. His mind was spinning with the events of the past hour, unable to make sense of any of it.